In the ancient and majestic palace, one stone column after another supports the lofty dome. Caine sat at the head of the bronze long table, holding a translucent brown bottle, carefully inspecting it repeatedly without sensing any danger. Begin... He materialized a quill and paper, writing the divinatory phrase: "Its origin." Setting down the pen and mentally preparing himself for a potential onslaught, Caine glanced at the paper and the biological toxin bottle, leaned back against the chair, and silently recited while meditating. Soon, he entered a hazy dream, seeing a dim yet spacious room. Within, there hung the眼镜王蛇 and black widow spiders, and various odd and strange plants were arranged in a cluttered, eerie manner. A serious middle-aged man in a white coat stood at the center of a long table, carefully placing the snake's bile, spider venom glands, and other items one by one into a large black iron pot suspended beneath the ceiling. In the end, he even placed several items radiating strong spiritual luminescence within—the lung-shaped objects that occasionally dispersed into black vapor and then coalesced into solid, deep green forms, the clear, azure liquid, the fiery red eyes… The air around the large black iron pot gradually grew thick, gathering toward the center yet constantly being pushed back, unable to settle. The middle-aged man in the white coat observed this scene, his brows slowly furrowing, his expression subtly growing anxious. He flipped through the black notebook lying beside him, bit down on his teeth, and with a ritual silver dagger, cut open his wrist. One by one, bright drops of blood fell into the black pot, and suddenly, as if coming to life, the pot emitted a terrifying suction force, drawing in the thick surrounding air and even the remaining crimson droplets still clinging to his wrist. This wasn't over yet. No matter how fiercely the middle-aged man in the white coat struggled, no matter how visibly afraid he appeared, he could not help but move closer to the iron pot. His body stretched elongated, his head compressed, and amidst his screams, he was gradually consumed by the pot. The specimens hanging around, the plants arranged on display, and every object capable of movement or motion—all were swept into the pot. A thick, brown mist suddenly filled the room, flowing and rippling quietly. When everything had ended, the entire room was empty, save for a small, translucent brown bottle lying quietly at the center of the open space. … The scene faded swiftly, the dream shattered rapidly. Caine opened his eyes, murmuring silently, "So the biological toxin bottle was born from a fatal experiment." "I thought it was some kind of extraordinary trait left behind by a person who had lost control—then I could use it to formulate a recipe..." For Kline, the spiritual essence of the uncontrolled, their extraordinary traits, and the spiritually corrupted essence—along with their extraordinary traits—could all be used to formulate recipes, just as with the "Eye of All Black" left behind by the former "Master of Secret Figures," Rosago. This was because he had the gray mist acting as a barrier, this mysterious space eliminating negative effects, and ample reserves to absorb failures. Of course, the extraordinary traits involved numerous additional factors, making it theoretically possible but with a very high probability of failure. Only after Kline had advanced to the rank of "Magician" did he begin to feel confident. Likewise, seals formed directly by similar extraordinary traits could also be used to formulate magical remedies. But if they merely serve as primary materials, transformed into magical items through the craftsmanship of artisans or through certain perilous experiments, then even with the enhancement provided by the mysterious space above the Gray Mist, Caine’s current level of divination would be utterly powerless. "Indeed, at least we no longer have to worry about any hidden risks with the biological toxin vials…" Caine glanced at the wolf’s fang and, with rationality, set aside his curiosity. ……… Queen’s District, the luxurious manor of Count Holberg. Audrey continues studying psychology. By her side, the golden-haired dog, Suzie, sits attentively, her eyes bright and alert, occasionally shaking her tail as if thoroughly enjoying the moment. The psychologist, Islanth, finishes the introductory section and casually mentions, "In fact, there is another such theory." "It believes that humans inherit a certain kind of consciousness from their ancestors, passed down through generations, forming the underlying logic of their behavioral patterns. For instance, many people may never have seen a venomous snake, yet as soon as they encounter one, they instinctively feel afraid and instinctively try to avoid it. 'Why is that?' This is precisely the sense we inherit from our ancestors—deeply embedded in our consciousness. In ancient times, humans continuously fought against venomous snakes and other fierce animals, gradually embedding this memory into their consciousness, which has since been passed down through generations. 'How exactly is this inherited?' Audrey asked with genuine interest. "For example, the most fundamental level of consciousness is like an endless ocean, and each person's unique consciousness is like an island rising within that ocean. This can be divided into two parts: what lies beneath the surface—the deeper, more expansive unconscious—and what emerges above the water—the surface consciousness that we typically perceive. 'This forms part of the theoretical foundation of this psychological school,' Audrey said, glancing at Suzy and gently running her fingers through the golden fur on her neck. 'So, by leveraging the interconnected ocean, can we influence others' consciousness, achieving treatment for certain mental disorders?' That's the esoteric foundation and extraordinary capability of the 'psychologist'? Yet it still seems insufficient—something is still missing. For instance, what about the sky above our heads, the all-encompassing sky? Audrey thought, her expression both puzzled and curious. 'You truly have a natural talent in this area!' "Islanthe exclaimed with delight, 'But we can only influence the surrounding waters. Through that, we can then reach those nearby. If we venture too deeply, exploring the 'open sea,' we risk becoming lost.' She looked up at the magnificent, intricately designed clock on the wall, smiled, and said, 'It's time. Today's session concludes. Miss Odile, if you're interested in the psychology of this school, we'll continue our conversation next time.' 'Certainly,' Odile stood and bowed. As she watched the other leave, she nodded thoughtfully—Islanthe didn't seem like a true 'psychologist,' at most, she was just as I am, a 'mind-reader.' Wasn't that exactly what the psychological foundation of the Psychological Alchemy School was?" They really have patience—how come they haven't invited me yet? While Audrey was thinking, Suzy beside her happily remarked, "Audrey, I feel she's just like us, isn't that right? No, like us—like dogs? No, not quite... Woof!" Suzy, who had only just begun to grasp human language, became momentarily confused, struggling to find the right words to express her feelings. The church of Harvest was not large, featuring only one chapel hall. Caine settled into a seat near the aisle, removing his hat as he glanced toward the front. Bishop Utrofski was delivering the sermon. Standing over two meters tall, his broad-shouldered frame, accentuated by his loose clerical robe, created a strong sense of presence. Yet his expression was remarkably gentle, filled with admiration and gratitude for life. Before such a bishop, no one dared to speak; the small congregation listened quietly, occasionally making the distinctive prayer gesture unique to the Earth Mother Church. Caine observed carefully, patient and composed. As the sermon concluded, he grasped his staff, preparing to rise and proceed. At that moment, a man entered through the door leading to the back rooms of the church. He wore the robe of a priest from the Earth Mother Church. In his early thirties, with black hair and bright eyes, a high nose, and thin lips, he was handsome but not particularly strong or robust—this was Emlyn White. Klein's mouth opened slightly, almost unable to close it. Shouldn't this man have been confined in the basement? Didn't he keep shouting about holding firm to his beliefs, refusing to conform to the Bishop Utravský's ideas? Emlyn White distributed the matters concerning the Eucharist to one faithful follower after another, and finally stopped before Klein. Klein's thoughts raced as he lowered his voice: "Are you Emlyn White? Your parents entrusted my friend to find you. How did you end up here? Has something happened? Do you need any assistance?" Emlyn White lost that distinctive pride, offering a smile only slightly better than one of sorrow. "I'm fine. I'll be home soon," he said, pressing his lips together and shaking his head with a strong, determined smile. "I'm already a follower of the Mother Goddess. No, I'm a priest." "This answer completely surprised Klein, leaving him momentarily at a loss for words, and he could only silently exclaim in his mind: 'Wait—last time at the Harvest Church, you were very firm about your devotion to the Moon, absolutely certain you'd never switch to the Earth Mother Goddess. How could you have changed so quickly? Isn't that too fast? Where's your steadfastness? Your integrity? My carefully prepared performance—still not even begun—has already been abruptly ended... This simply doesn't make sense!' As Klein opened his mouth, he suddenly realized something was off: Why was Emlyn White telling me about his change of faith? I was just a detective who happened to pass by and noticed him. Did he want me to pass this on to his parents? Was there something deeper going on here? While Klein pondered the reason, Emlyn White put aside his concern and smiled with confidence: 'Detective, you didn't need to act.'" "Or perhaps I should call you the new owner of the universal key? Hehe, for the noble vampire race, each person has a distinct flavor, with unique blood characteristics. Even when I was locked in the basement, I still detected and remembered your scent."